In A World Without Colour
by Pendora-lass
Summary: On a dark and dreary night, Claire discovers she’s lost the colour in her life. But after meeting up with an old friend, the darkness around her diminishes, though slightly, and she finds hope in an unexpected place.


"Are you insane?!" Jack screamed.

Locke stood up from the ground where the spinal surgeon had flattened him and pulled out yet another obligatory and lousy excuse for his reckless behavior as Aaron began to fuss in his mother's arms. Looking down at her distressed son, Claire wanted nothing more than to wail along with him. She wished she could kick and scream and just give in to the rising feeling of helplessness that was threatening to overwhelm her.

As the man of science and the man of faith continued in their petty, so-often-rehearsed argument, Claire realized something soft and warm was affixed between her fingers. She looked down to find herself fingering Aaron's blanket fiercely, a fast and desperate motion. This beloved piece of fleece had become such a familiarity to her, an everyday item, almost a little slice of home, and yet here in the faint flicker of the torches it looked different somehow. The fabric, usually such a bright, beautiful blue, appeared lifeless, colourless, dead.

Sides were now being chosen, and Claire followed Hurley without question, without faltering. As the two groups faced one another, the rain began to fall, washing away all last traces of sunshine from the castaways' faces.

"You know where to find us, when you change your mind." Locked informed the opposing group and he turned to set off into the jungle, the rest following.

"Claire, wait!" Desmond called. Claire turned to find the Scotsman dashing through the downpour towards her. As he spoke, even in her weary, broken state she couldn't help but notice, he refused to meet her eyes.

"I've…I've got something to give you." He reached into the breast pocket of his bold blue button-down shirt. "Here. It's from….it's…it's what he wanted." He shoved a piece of paper into her hand and turned without another word, disappearing into the shadow of the trees and the rain.

"Are you insane?!" A tiny voice inside her head screamed.

"…don't know…don't care…" She panted back. And it was true; she had simply ceased to care.

She was running…running as she hadn't run since Aaron was born, since before her pregnancy, as she hadn't run since she was a girl. With a mumbled excuse about needing the loo she had left Aaron with Hurley before taking off without even giving heed to the direction she took. The rest of the camp was asleep and she had insisted she would be fine on her own and told Hurley not to follow her. She was grateful he was understanding and had let her be.

The castaways' make-shift camp near the cockpit had faded into the distance behind her and she now relied exclusively on the glow of the moon for light. Not that she needed it, for she wasn't looking ahead or behind. She was simply running her eyes fixed dead at the bushes and shrubs in front of her. Since coming to the island she had often found comfort in the bright, beautiful green of the forest. And yet, as the brush and brambles brushed past her she found no comfort. For they were not as they had once been…they now appeared lifeless, colourless, dead.

The rain had now stopped and she continued to run in spite of the wet patches of earth and the puddles that constantly threatened her footing. She told herself she would pay for being so careless and, sure enough, before she knew what was happening her foot caught a tree root in the dark and she fell with a sharp intake of breath to the ground. A twig from a wayside bush struck out at her hand as she fell, creating a stinging pain across her palm. And yet she paid it no heed; the stabbing pain in her heart was far deeper and barely before she hit the jungle floor the sobs were wracking her body.

In a place as wild and unpredictable as this island, Claire had shed her fair amount of tears, but this was different. This was what pain sounded like. This was fear, desperation, loneliness and disbelief leaving the body. This was hysteria.

"Oh please, oh God, please say it's just a dream. Oh please, oh please, please, please, oh God. Let me wake up!" The words fell from her lips in a continual stream of desperate whimpers, increasing in speed and heightening in pitch.

She slowly curled herself into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest amid the leaves and twigs. Time passed. She was unsure of just how long she lay there, swathed in her misery, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. Eventually, the sobs calmed and she allowed a passing breeze to brush over her face and soothe her stinging, tear-stained eyes.

As she slowly gained more control over her emotions, she unclenched her balled-up fist and began to smooth out the crinkled, hot, sweaty piece of paper, smelling of Sharpies and the ocean. Holding the water-stained parchment to the moonlight, she strained her tired eyes to pour over the sharp, black, bold words for the dozenth time.

"Are you insane?" A soft voice breathed, not five feet in front of her. It was so sudden, and yet so subtle, she was sure she must have imagined it. And yet it spoke again. "You're meant to be with the rest of the group."

She slowly lifted her head from where it rested on the page of memories…and _he_ was standing there. Her heart leapt within her chest and her face suddenly felt warm. This had been a dark night for her…lifeless, colourless, dead, and yet, there he stood, full of life, colour, and hope…just as he always had.

He looked different to her somehow. More….groomed. His hair was shorter, for one thing. But more than that, the most significant change was in his face, in his demeanor. He looked older, more pensive, and more somber. And yet somehow she saw he was the same person he had always been.

"Charlie…" She breathed.

He nodded. Once. Slowly. It was more of a chin-tilt than a nod. "Yes, I'm here."

"But…but you _can't_…" She fumbled, feeling her face crumple, her voice crack. "…Hurley…he…"

"Hurley is a good mate. The best a bloke could ask for. If someone had to tell you, I'm glad it could be him."

Claire felt the tears threatening to overwhelm her again and she took a shaky breath. "Yes, but you…you're…" She dropped her head to her chest and whispered the words she hitherto hadn't been able to say. "You're…dead." It was so quiet she wasn't quite certain she had even said them aloud. But he had heard.

"Yes, I am." Her heart sank. "But for now" he continued. "I am here, with you."

"Why did you do it?" Claire voiced the question that had been irking her, haunting her, since she first heard word of his underwater plans.

"I did it for you…I did it for Aaron…and for everyone. It was what was _needed_ to be done, to get you all rescued."

In her present state Claire's mind was exhausted and still refused to understand. "But why did it have to be _you_?"

Charlie shrugged and threw her a quick, characteristic half-grin. "Fate, I s'pose."

Sudden anger began to swell in Claire's chest as realization set in. "So then you knew…all the time? Desmond had another vision, didn't he?" The tiny voice inside her head screamed out at her for wasting precious time with Charlie scolding him, but after all she'd been through tonight, she found herself ignoring these warnings. "You knew you were going to…you knew what was going to happen and you didn't tell me? Why?! Why would you keep that from me, Charlie?"

He stepped forward and reached out a hand to touch her right shoulder. "Shhhh…" He breathed soothingly and Claire somehow found herself annoyed, and slightly amused, that even in death Charlie sought to appease her. "'S all right."

"But _why_?" She demanded again.

He sighed and placed his right hand on her other shoulder and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Claire." He breathed, and she felt her anger subsiding. "I _had_ to do it. It _needed_ to be done, and nothing was going to change that."

For a reason she couldn't quite explain, his words were enough and she reached her arms up and clung tightly to his neck. As he returned the embrace she buried her face in his chest and felt fresh tears dampen his shirt. A scent she had never even placed as being his own filled her up and brought to mind all the moments, both good and bad, she had shared with him.

"Just remember," He spoke slowly as he began to stroke her hair. "I might be gone in the, the physical sense, but I will always be here. And I will look out for you and Aaron. And don't forget, don't ever forget Claire," He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered fiercely "I love you." Claire opened her eyes, and he was gone.

But in his place she saw that the sun was beginning to rise. An early morning breeze, this time warm and welcoming, drifted from the beach, through the jungle and brushed her face, drying her last remaining tears. She looked out at the light of a new dawn, the color of a new day, and the trees were beautiful once again. They held a hint of colour, of life, and of hope.

She turned around and followed her plodding feet back the way she had come.


End file.
